


Teaching a Wolf to Dance

by theramblinggirl



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Dancing, Drinking, F/M, Fluff, Wingman Varric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 09:10:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5863210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theramblinggirl/pseuds/theramblinggirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris had only been joking when he said he spent his time dancing around the mansion, but Hawke intends to change that. Once he's good at it, they just need an opportunity to show off.</p>
<p>Based off the banter between Varric and Fenris, because the image of Fenris prancing around his mansion was too strong to ignore. This uses a bit of my Hawke's backstory. Sorry for only teasing at it, I swear I will do that story justice eventually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teaching a Wolf to Dance

While Hawke busied herself digging through barrels of trash for a new sword or a ripped pair of pants she could sell off, Varric, Fenris, and Anders took a moment to relax. Varric had whipped out a cloth to wipe a little bit of blood splatter off of Bianca. That one Tal’Vashoth had been much too close for comfort, and now they were all covered in spots of red. Hawke usually just let her mabari lick her clean. The others refused that offer.

“So, elf, you have a big mansion in Hightown all to yourself. What do you do with all the space?” Varric asked. Hawke triumphantly waved a broken bow in the air, shouting something about getting at least twenty silver out of this find. One day they’d hold an intervention for Hawke’s hoarding, but today was not that day.

“I dance,” Fenris said. “I run around the hallways and choreograph routines.”

“Oh, the broody elf can actually make a joke! Hawke! Fenris just figured out how to be sarcastic!” Varric shouted.

“I could be serious,” Fenris said. But his slight grin gave him away in an instant.

“Damn, I missed it,” Hawke said, trotting back towards the rest of the group. “How much do you think this bit of frayed rope will get me?”

They desperately needed to give this girl an intervention. They continued along the Wounded Coast, dutifully following Hawke despite the fact that it seemed she hadn’t a clue where they were going. In between bouts with Tal’Vashoth and random thugs, Varric found chances to continue the conversation.

“Can you even dance, elf? Somehow I can’t imagine you prancing around like some Orlesian nobleman,” Varric said.

“There are slaves whose only purpose is to entertain. They are taught to dance, sing, and perform. I was not one of these,” Fenris said.

“Huh,” Varric said. Then he looked ahead at Hawke. “Hey Hawke! Can you dance?”

“What? Um, a bit, but not very well,” Hawke called back.

“There you go, you have a teacher,” Varric said. Dwarves seemed to be the most talented out of all people in Thedas at smug smiles. Even amongst them, Varric must have been a champion at looking smug. Perhaps even a Paragon of smugness.

Fenris didn’t hide his blush very well. Varric found the whole thing adorable, frankly. The broody elf wasn’t the most stable of people, but neither were any of Hawke’s cohorts. At least Fenris really did care about Hawke and was fiercely loyal. Besides, Varric had made a promise to Hawke to help her win the guy’s heart, even if he didn’t entirely approve. Hawke had made her choice, and Varric respected that.

The subject was dropped after that, but Varric would make sure that Hawke knew Fenris was promised dancing lessons. She’d been going over to the old mansion a lot lately, to teach Fenris to read. Varric was sure the whole thing was very sweet, but not entirely a romantic set up. The two of them dancing together, alone in the middle of a huge estate? That was something Hawke could work with.

♢♢♢

“I think that’s enough work for tonight,” Hawke said, leaning back in her chair and taking a sip of wine. She knew Fenris liked it, so sometimes she’d bring over a bottle to share. After all, the stuff Danarius left behind wouldn’t last forever and seemed more worth drinking on special occasions. This wine was cheaper, but still drinkable. At the very least, it gave the two a nice buzz by the end of the night.

“Agreed,” Fenris said. “Will you be taking your leave then?”

“Actually, I was thinking about what Varric was saying the other day,” Hawke said. Normally she was cautiously flirtatious, but with enough alcohol she was emboldened and unafraid.

“The dwarf says a lot of things,” Fenris noted.

“True,” Hawke said. “I meant about dancing, and my teaching you. You never know when you might need to know how.”

“Yes, I’m sure all the criminals in Kirkwall will flee in terror once they see me dance,” Fenris said.

Hawke knew that Varric was wrong. Fenris had  
known how to use sarcasm. He just used it more with people he liked and when he was in a good mood. Hawke felt honored to know that she heard Fenris’ sarcasm on a daily basis.

“If that doesn’t scare them I’m sure your humor would do it,” Hawke said. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

“You sound like Isabela when you say things like that. It concerns me,” Fenris said. “When did you even learn to dance?”

“You remember how I learned to fight? The old Crow didn’t just teach me about killing. He said that Antivan Crows are the best, because they know a great many skills, not just the right places to stick a knife. Any amateur can pick up a blade and slice enough times to make someone die. A professional knows not only when and where to slice, but how to get the other person to trust that you would never hurt them,” Hawke said, a devious smile on her face.

Then she stood and stretched her arms. “Being an assassin is more like playing a long and complicated game. Doing mercenary work is messier, but simpler. Point is, he taught me this dance they do in Antiva. Unlike Ferelden styles of dance, it’s a lot more controlled and precise. Most people I saw dance in Ferelden...you don’t want to dance like a Fereldan.”

Fenris chuckled. Hawke loved her homeland, he could tell by the way she spoke about it. He wished he could relate, but anything good about Tevinter was outweighed by everything he experienced. Kirkwall was the first place he was starting to feel a sense of belonging in, and he owed that entirely to Hawke. Perhaps she was right when she suggested making a true home here. After all, it had been three years since they first met, and he’d not felt the urge or need to leave.

“Point is, tonight, we dance like Antivans. Come with me,” Hawke said, extending her hand. Fenris took it and allowed her to lead him down the steps into the large foyer.

Fenris never cleaned up, but Hawke had at least put all the slowly rotting corpses away in a back room so no one had to smell them when they came to visit. There were still bloodstains on the walls, broken bits of furniture in places, but it was a clear enough space for their purposes. Hawke attempted to convince herself that the decrepit state of the mansion made it more romantic, like a lost and forgotten thing. That was a hard sell when she knew firsthand why the place looked as it did.

Hawke brought him to the center of the room, then first instructed him on where to place his hands. Fenris looked a little nervous, which made Hawke even more determined to do this. She had to fight the slight shivers that shot through her as he rested a hand against her hip. Hawke placed her own hand on his shoulder. She had to pull him close to do the steps right and took great pleasure in watching his expression change as her body pressed against his. They would not be “leaving room for the Maker,” as Sebastian might say.

Hawke explained the first few steps to Fenris, and demonstrated slowly. Though she was certain her cheeks were bright red, it was hard for her to mind when she saw that Fenris had a slight blush of his own. Hawke had to lead for a while, until Fenris was becoming more comfortable with the steps. He’d always been a fast learner, no matter what she attempted to teach.

So Hawke started to throw in a few more complex steps, including a dip. “Um, normally it’s the woman who gets dipped, here, so I’d need to teach you to lead, too,” Hawke said, pausing.

“No need, I think I’ve picked it up from watching you,” Fenris said. To prove it, because he always had to, Fenris pulled Hawke close again and started the dance again, leading like a professional. His intense gaze focused on Hawke, who stared right back, unable to look away. Fenris stopped abruptly and parted from her, taking a step back.

“Well...okay then,” Hawke said, feeling the sudden need to fan herself. “I think you’ve got it.”

“Tell me you didn’t dance with your teacher like this, Hawke,” Fenris said, running a hand through his hair.

“Oh, no. He just showed me the steps. Mostly I practiced with Bethany. I tried to teach Carver, but he refused,” Hawke said, smiling fondly. She still missed her siblings horribly, but it was nice to remember times when things were simpler.

“He missed out, then,” Fenris said. “You’re a wonderful teacher.”

“I’m not sure I can agree, but thanks for saying it anyway,” Hawke said with a self-deprecating chuckle.

Now to teach Fenris the dip. Hawke remembered this being Bethany’s favorite part. This would be the first time Hawke was able to experience it as the person lowered towards the ground. When she imagined the moment, Fenris hovering over her, keeping her steady in his strong grasp, it took all the self-control she could manage not to melt on the spot.

He followed each instruction as it came, Hawke unable to stop herself from thinking that it was an old habit of his from life as a slave. The difference was that this time, it was something pleasant, and she certainly wasn’t forcing him to do it.

Fenris started by repositioning his hand to her mid-back, to better support her, then began to lower Hawke slowly. He kept his balance by adjusting his stance. The whole time their eyes remained locked. Fenris held her like that for what felt like a full minute, before slowly easing her back to standing. Hawke released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

“That...was perfect. Then you just put the whole thing together and you have yourself a properly improper Antivan dance,” Hawke said, pulling herself away. She wasn’t sure she could do that again for a while. Not until she got the chance to clear her mind of a lot of dirty thoughts.

Hawke was brushing aside her bangs, smoothing her hair, as Fenris reclosed some of the distance between them. He bowed his head a little, a gesture of thanks. Hawke nodded in response. Maker, she wanted to kiss him.

“We’ll have to practice again another time,” Fenris said. “It is late, even for you.”

“Huh, yeah,” Hawke breathed.

“I will look forward to it then. Goodnight, Hawke.”

“Goodnight...Fenris.”

She made her retreat, unable to fight past the growing nerves in her chest. It was strange to think that just moments ago, there was not even a hair’s breadth between them. Hawke strolled the Hightown streets, unable to contain her grin. The next day, she couldn’t wait to tell Varric every detail.

“Broody dancing? Good one Hawke,” Varric said. “I will believe that one when I see it.”

Isabela, hovering nearby, chimed in, “I bet you a sovereign Hawke’s telling the truth.”

“No way I’m taking that bet,” Varric said. “By the time Hawke convinces the elf to dance for us, he _will_ be good at it. It’s a loss and you know it.”

“Can’t blame me for trying,” Isabela said.

Varric laughed and shook his head. They had things to do, people to kill, and bandits would not wait while they stood idle having a conversation. Hawke needed to get dancing off of her mind, as well, to prevent herself from feeling embarrassed and flustered the whole day.

♢♢♢

It had been over two years since the death of the Arishok, and Kirkwall was beginning to truly show signs of recovery. Rebuilding what had been destroyed was the biggest job, and though that was done ages ago the people of Kirkwall still felt a lingering paranoia. Knight-Commander Meredith wasn’t exactly helping matters, but that gave Hawke and her companions all the more reason to find things to celebrate. As soon as Aveline and Donnic announced their engagement, Hawke wanted to do everything she could to help. To most citizens, she was Champion of Kirkwall, but to Aveline she was the very nosy friend you couldn’t get rid of even if you wanted to. Thankfully, Aveline didn’t actually want to.

It ended up as a nice, private ceremony at the Amell - now Hawke - Estate. They’d been officially married by the Chantry a day ago, but this was the real wedding, and everyone knew it. Varric presided over the affair, giving a grandiose speech about eternal love, which was cut short when Aveline noticed the many euphemisms being thrown in that had most of the audience in stitches.

“Maker, I swear sometimes that I’m friends with a bunch of children,” Aveline sighed, though couldn’t hide her smile. Donnic ended up laughing, too, unable to contain himself. It was what all of them needed.

Hawke was especially glad the night was just her own friends and a few members of Aveline’s guard that could get away from duties for a time. They’d arranged for some local musicians to perform for the night, even though Orana volunteered her lute. Hawke would not allow it, not when the girl should be having fun with the rest of the group.

Merrill was quickly swept up by Isabela, who appeared to already be incredibly drunk despite the night having only just begun. Hawke knew to expect no less. Sebastian was a perfect gentleman, offering to dance with Orana. Even his dancing was so chaste. Anders took some friendly nudging from Varric, but before long he was starting to let loose. Sandal was wildly gyrating, which Bodahn assured Hawke was just the way he danced and nothing to be concerned about. As long as he didn’t start swinging from the chandelier again, she was fine with a bit of wildness.

Most of the guard didn’t know what to make of Hawke and Aveline’s insane group of friends, but with a couple of drinks in them, they loosened up and joined the fun all the same. As much as Hawke wanted to take up offers from everyone to dance, she’d sworn to Aveline that she would play host and make sure nothing could possibly go wrong. That meant Hawke was hanging on the side, keeping an eye on things.

There was only one other person in attendance who wasn’t involving himself in the festivities. Fenris sat on a chair off to the side, looking horribly bored but remaining glued in place.

“You don’t have to stay, you know,” Hawke said, sliding onto the chair beside his. He looked up at her, then resumed his staring into the crowd.

“I do know,” Fenris said. “Do I appear as if I wish to leave?”

“Well, you don’t exactly look like you’re having any fun,” Hawke said. To be fair though, that was sort of the way his face looked all the time. Even when he’d been with her, it was more smoldering than soft, loving gazes. But Hawke couldn’t allow herself to think of that. It was a wound she didn’t dare open again.

“I simply haven’t danced in…a long time.”

Hawke knew. Hawke knew because the last time he’d danced would have been with her, and that would have been before Fenris had showed up at her house spontaneously that one night. No, it had been quite a while since Fenris had danced.

“Judging by Sandal, I’m pretty sure the standards are set very low tonight. You could be the most awkward person in the room and nobody would care. I could even try to look more awkward to help,” Hawke offered.

“I’d prefer to stay here,” Fenris said. He was sneering a little bit, but Hawke wasn’t sure exactly what she’d said to upset him. To think she’d criticized Aveline’s flirting.

Minutes of awkward silence passed, and Hawke realized she’d been sitting there too long to simply leave him and continue hosting duties. Besides, everything was running smoothly without her intervention, there was no excuse for Hawke to run off. But sitting there without saying a word was making her crazy, so she had to say something. Anything that would get him talking would do.

“So, um, is this the first time you’ve been to a wedding?” Hawke asked.

“Yes,” Fenris said.

_Okay, note to self, yes or no questions get you nowhere,_ Hawke thought. “Did...did slaves ever marry in Tevinter?”

Fenris’ whole body tensed for a moment, but with a deep breath, he relaxed himself again. It would never be easy talking about some things. But Hawke was someone whom he was comfortable talking to, even about the hard things. There was only one thing Fenris had been unable to mention, even though she deserved closure. Hawke deserved a lot of things that Fenris didn’t think himself capable of giving.

“Sometimes,” Fenris said. The long pause made Hawke wonder if that was all she would get from that subject, and readied another question just before he spoke again. “Masters would sometimes match them together, like they would pick animals to breed. It wasn’t anything like this. There was only one time I knew of slaves who willingly married one another, but they did it in secret.”

“Why?” Hawke asked.

“As a slave, you were to do only as your master told you. If your master did not wish it, you did not do it. But word spreads among slaves, and eventually Danarius found out about the two of them. They belonged to a rival Magister, so he saw an opportunity to embarrass his rival and take two of his slaves at the same time. Danarius revealed their secret, and the other Magister sentenced them to die,” Fenris said.

“That’s awful,” Hawke said. There wasn’t much else she could think to say to something like that. A thousand voicings of pity would not erase all the things Fenris had seen or experienced. Even what little comfort she could offer sometimes felt hollow, making Hawke wonder who she was really trying to make feel better. Still, she put her hand over Fenris’, hoping that would be enough without becoming invasive. He allowed her touch.

“The Magister killed the man first, so the woman would have to watch her lover die. The way she screamed…” Fenris said, voice trailing off. His hands balled into fists, but Hawke did not remove hers. This was the most she’d touched him in years and she wasn’t ready to let go.

“It was foolish for them to think they would get away with it. They should have known from the start that it could only end in tragedy,” Fenris said. He appeared to be settling back down, but Hawke knew this was a false calm, a mask to protect himself.

“You don’t think that love is something worth fighting for? Even if it’s foolish or dangerous?” Hawke said.

Fenris finally raised his eyes, meeting Hawke’s yellow-gold ones. Both of them knew she wasn’t asking about the slaves from his story. She was begging, like she had before, asking him to try, to take the risk. Neither of them could bear the look they saw in each other’s faces, a mimic of the pain they’d internalized.

“Perhaps, under different circumstances,” Fenris said. “But as a slave you think only of your master’s wishes, act only on them.”

Hawke’s hand was so warm against his. Fenris couldn’t do this. Hawke was so close and her eyes were so wide, he wanted to kiss her again, to push her against a wall and tell her that he wanted nothing more than to have her. But he wouldn’t allow himself to do that. He’d only hurt her again, and hurt himself in the process. It would be safer if Fenris just removed himself altogether, but still he remained. It would hurt more to leave her behind than it hurt to see her, to wonder why she hadn’t simply moved on and found someone else to warm her bed.

“You don’t have to do what someone else tells you to anymore, Fenris. You can choose for yourself,” Hawke said.

She pulled her hand away. How many boundaries would Hawke cross before she managed to stop herself? She was pushing him tonight, and she knew it. Hawke had sworn to herself she’d only talk about them, the possibility of them again when Fenris himself opened up about it. By the Maker, she couldn’t even keep promises she made to _herself_. Hawke looked away.

“I know,” Fenris said. Then he paused, only to add, “It’s hard when you’re uncertain what you want.”

Despite Fenris’ words, it was very clear that he wanted one thing, at least. The way he stared at her, daring to lean closer than he would have normally allowed, and the way his eyes would casually fall to her lips every so often gave him away. Fenris didn’t have to say what he wanted, because the look he gave Hawke said it all.

Only, Hawke didn’t notice, because she was trying her hardest not to look at him again. Instead, she laughed a little, and said, “It can be hard even if you _do_ know. The only thing that makes a difference is the action. I mean, had I not pushed Aveline to do something, she might not be with Donnic right now. Sometimes it takes meddling friends, and sometimes it just takes a leap of faith.”

As if on cue, Varric was making his way towards the two of them. He appeared surprisingly composed for the number of drinks he must have consumed by that part of the night. The dwarf certainly wasn’t the lightweight Isabela seemed to be. Or maybe he was just better at faking his soberness.

“Hawke, elf, you two do know this is a party, right?” Varric said. “What are you doing over here in a dark corner when you should out there dancing with the rest of us?”

“For one, I’m not nearly as drunk as the rest of you are,” Hawke said, smiling.

“That, we can fix. But I was hoping to see the elf’s legendary dance skills tonight,” Varric said, pointing his glance over in Fenris’ direction. “I haven’t forgotten that Hawke said she taught you a thing or two.”

Hawke sighed. “Varric, I-”

“If a demonstration is the only way you will believe Hawke, then that is exactly what you shall have,” Fenris said, already standing.

Hawke was stunned, even as she took his hand and let herself be lead out in the middle of all the other party guests. She turned her head back towards Varric, who mouthed, “You can thank me later,” with a wink and a thumbs up. Varric was a dutiful wingman. Hawke was positive that the dwarf had more hope for her love life than she did.

When Fenris placed his hand on her waist, pulling Hawke close to him, it was like everything shifted. No time had passed, and it was the first night they’d ever danced together all over again. Fenris lead, forcing Hawke’s steps. First back, then side, then the two whipped around in a turn. They repeated this with impressive grace as the others cleared the way, making more room for them to dance together. Hawke felt the eyes of their audience, but the only thing she cared about was that Fenris was holding her, pressing her ever closer to him, and watching her carefully with those deep green eyes.

She felt his hand slide up her back, and knew that was his signal to her. Hawke allowed herself to slide backwards, trusting Fenris’ steady grasp, before he pulled her back up with desperate swiftness. Her heart pounded against her chest, and she was certain he could feel her escalated pulse. They parted before it was too late to let go, but did so slow as if to admit their reluctance to each other.

Isabela was cheering loudly. “Oh, just go upstairs and have a go at each other already!” she cried. Merrill attempted to hold her back, while the rest of the room offered a quieter, more polite applause.

Hawke shook her head, laughing as Varric joined Merrill in distracting Isabela. Varric was saying something to the pirate, who grimaced, then pulled a sovereign out from between her breasts and laid it in Varric’s palm. Hawke absolutely had to know what that was about. But first…

“Thanks,” Hawke said, looking back at Fenris. “I guess all that practice paid off after all.”

“I suppose it did,” Fenris agreed with a smirk. “Perhaps you should see to Isabela. She appears to need help standing.”

“Yeah, that…I’ll go do that,” Hawke said.

She excused herself and went straight for Varric. “Explain what I just saw,” Hawke said.

“You know I never take losing bets, Hawke,” Varric said. “Isabela over here doubted you and didn’t think that you could dance with Fenris since you two have been so awkward lately. I disagreed, and we bet a sovereign on it. Thanks for helping me win.”

“I aim to please,” Hawke said, rolling her eyes.

With Isabela absolutely wasted, Merill and Varric decided to see the pirate back home. Aveline and Donnic thanked Hawke before making a hasty retreat of their own. With the life and reason of the party pretty much gone, the rest of the guests made their way for the door. Anders hung back, preferring as usual to take the passages below Hawke’s estate to get back to Darktown. Bodahn got to work right away to start cleaning up, despite Hawke’s protests that he really didn’t need to. She didn’t mind if things stayed a mess until the next morning. But Orana and Sandal joined in the cleaning, and Hawke knew she couldn’t stop them.

Hawke knew she would feel guilty if she didn’t at least help a little bit, so she moved towards the front door to take down decorations. She hadn’t expected Fenris to be there. She swore she’d seen him leave already. Still, it wasn’t like Hawke minded. Quite the opposite in fact, since Hawke had wanted to be sure to say a proper goodnight to him.

“You throw quite the party, Hawke,” Fenris said. “It was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. Thank you for inviting me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Hawke said. “I mean, technically it was Aveline who invited everyone along, but still.”

“I simply thought…” Fenris began, then took a breath. “I thought you might not want me around so much, anymore. Being brought along to fight spiders or darkspawn is one thing. I offered my sword to you and I expect you to use it as you see fit. But this is different. Personal. I believed it would not be my place.”

“Fenris, you’re my friend. No matter what, that hasn’t changed. I still want you around. For monster fighting and for the personal stuff,” Hawke insisted.

Fenris nodded. That was enough of an answer, at least for the moment. “Then, thank you. For wanting me.”

He left abruptly as Hawke’s eyes widened. Had he really just said that? Maker, _did he_? She could barely hide her delight. Hawke joined in the cleaning with gusto this time.

On the other side of the door, on the dark streets of Hightown, Fenris was cursing softly in Tevene. He hadn’t wanted to lead her on, give her hope where he believed there was none, but it seemed that he just couldn’t help himself around Hawke. With any luck, she’d forget what he said by the next day. Fenris had no such luck.

**Author's Note:**

> Since I think of Antiva as magic!Spain in the same way Orlais is magic!France, I pictured the dance being a tango, or at least something like it. Which unfortunately makes it a little hard to describe without a lot of "then left foot forward, right foot side..." and coming out sounding like an instructional video. Or maybe I just have no idea how to do the tango. That's probably it.
> 
> Seriously though I do want to expand on the Hawke I use in this, as well as writing up my main Warden's story. But there's also a thousand FenHawke things I want to write/have in progress. Dragon Age has swallowed me whole and there is no turning back.


End file.
